Angels to Fly
by r2metoo
Summary: Castiel asks Dean for a favor. There are several warnings attached to this story, so please read those before reading the story.


**I have had this idea ruminating for a while, and I've finally decided to post the story. I've read it and edited it forever, so...it's very special to me. **

**Firstly, there are warnings: **

**Abortion**

**Descriptions of rape**

**Descriptions of underage dub-con/rape**

**Castiel is sort of ambiguously intersexed, but I don't go into any descriptions. I felt it bogged down the narrative when I tried. **

**If you are triggered by these things, please don't read. **

**I'm really scared to post this because I'm worried it won't be received well. I hope you like it. **

"Dean, I need you to do me a favor, and I need you to not ask any questions."

Dean regard his friend who looked nervous, his hair slightly flat from its usual careful dishevelment, eyes wide and blue and beseeching.

Castiel had started out as Sam's friend in school, but when Sam had left for college in California, Castiel had somehow gravitated towards Dean. Now Dean would consider Castiel his closest friend outside of his brother.

"Sure, man. Anything."

"I mean it, Dean," Castiel said firmly, lower lip trembling just the slightest. "No questions."

"No questions," he promised.

Castiel sat down at the small kitchen table and Dean closed his laptop. "I need surgery," Castiel said. "It's outpatient, but I'll need care for a few days afterward. Are you willing to help me?"

He needed surgery? "You're sick?"

"That's a question, Dean."

Dean rested his head on his palm. "Sorry. Okay. I'm not allowed to know anything, then, huh?"

Castiel shook his head and bit his lip. "Well? Can you help? If not, I can hire a nurse to come in for a few days, Balthazar says he knows someone…"

"No, man. No way. I'm your best friend, and I'll take care of you."

Castiel looked relieved. "Thank you, Dean. I did not want a stranger watching over me. I've scheduled the surgery for this coming Friday morning so I will have the whole weekend to recover. Are you able to take off work?"

Dean worked for his Uncle Bobby. "Sure, you know Bobby would do anything for you."

Castiel nodded. "Thank you. I will stay the night Thursday if that is not inconvenient. There is a pill I will need to take beforehand, and I'd like to have someone nearby in case there are complications or I have an allergic reaction."

Dean had a million questions, but he had promised not to ask any, so he nodded. "Sure. Okay. Sure. Yeah."

Castiel relaxed against the chair. "I appreciate this, Dean. I will…someday, I will try to tell you what is happening."

}O{

"Cas, this is a Family Planning Clinic," Dean said in disbelief, then instantly regretted it when he saw the stony way Castiel was staring at him. "I mean, uh…let's go."

Castiel was silent as he went inside and wouldn't even look at Dean. He signed in and took a stack of forms to a chair and Dean tentatively sat next to him.

Castiel was going to have an abortion, which was crazy. Castiel had wanted children since he graduated from college. He often expressed a wish to find the right guy and settle down and have at least two kids. Dean knew being a single parent could be hard, but it wasn't like he'd be alone. He'd have the whole clan behind him. Hell, Ellen would probably beg to babysit while Castiel worked.

But Dean had promised to not ask questions.

"Novak?"

Castiel stood up and went to the nurse, handing over his papers. He shot Dean a look, then sighed and gave him a tight smile. Dean just gaped at him. A few minutes later, the same nurse came for Dean and brought him to the back, chattering the entire time about Castiel's surgery and what Dean would need to do to take care of him afterwards. There was discussion of medicine, infection, lifting heavy objects, bleeding, etcetera, but Dean only slightly listened. He was more concerned about Castiel.

The man in question was in a gown, lying in bed, hooked into an IV with a blood pressure cuff.

"The anesthesiologist will be in in a minute," the nurse chirped. "Go ahead and relax."

"As if I could relax," Castiel grumbled when she closed the door.

Dean approached him and reached his hand out, as though he might touch his hair, then stopped himself.

"You have to respect my decision, Dean," Castiel said firmly. "And you promised no questions."

"I know, Cas. I promised. And I do. Respect your decision."

}O{

Dean was told that the "evacuation" wouldn't take long, but he didn't worry about that. He just wanted his friend to be okay. He had told the doctor to take her time and just be sure Castiel was comfortable.

It took a few hours from start to finish, but finally Dean was escorted back to find that Castiel had dressed and was sitting listlessly on the bed. He was pale and sweaty and Dean asked the nurse about pain medication.

"I'm okay," Castiel murmured.

The nurse came with papers for Dean to sign and aftercare instructions. Finally, he was able to help Castiel off the bed and supported him to the car. On the ride home, Castiel fell asleep, and Dean decided against waking him up, and simply scooped him into his arms and carried him inside once they reached the house.

He set Castiel down on his bed so Cas could have the good TV that was mounted on the wall over the dresser once he woke up, and immediately, without thinking anything about it, started to undress Castiel to make him more comfortable.

"No!" Castiel shouted, sitting upright and grabbing Dean's hand where it was on the waistband of his jeans. "No, please! Don't…"

Dean snatched his hand back, realization dawning, all those questions he wasn't allowed to ask suddenly being answered.

Castiel's face crumpled and he turned away from Dean, curling up in the fetal position.

"Cas, I was just…"

"Go away, Dean," Castiel said, his voice muffled by the pillow he was currently trying to suffocate himself with. "Go away."

Dean placed his hand on Castiel's back, jerking back once again when his friend tensed and sucked in a breath.

"Okay, I'm just going to bring your pills and water, and then I'll go away. But I want you to promise you'll take your pills. Please? Promise?"

Castiel nodded his head, still buried in the pillow.

Dean got two bottles of water from the fridge and Castiel's sack of pills. There was one for pain and one for infection. He looked at the pain pill bottle, and after a moments' deliberation, removed two and set them on the cap of the antibiotic, keeping the bottle of narcotics with himself. He set a pair of sweatpants on the bed.

"I'm right outside. Just let me know if you need something. If you want to change, there are some sweats for you. Don't worry about it."

A sob was his only answer.

}O{

"There's no point in pretending you don't know what happened," Castiel said several hours later. He was standing in the doorway to the living room. Dean had been watching reruns of Star Trek: TNG since he had brought Castiel home. His mind wasn't on the show, though. He barely registered that Riker was beardless.

"You don't owe anyone anything," Dean said softly, watching Castiel as he crossed the room and sat next to Dean on the sofa. "Least of all me."

"You agreed to help me," Castiel said. "You're my friend. You did everything you said you'd do, and I appreciate it."

Dean put his hand over Castiel's. "I'm here for you. You tell me whatever you want to tell me, whenever you want to tell it."

Castiel reached for the blanket across Dean's legs and snuggled under it, pressing himself against Dean. Without thinking, Dean put his arm around Cas, then hesitated before settling his weight against him.

"This okay?"

Castiel nodded. "It's great. Thanks, Dean."

}O{

Castiel had a nightmare that night. Dean hesitated going in to him to calm him down, but in the end, decided it was the best thing to do. He talked softly to Cas, not daring to touch him, not wanting to spook him.

"It's okay, Cas," he said softly, his hand itching to touch his friend. Tentatively, he stroked his hand up Castiel's arm, making him gasp and wake up. "Sorry, sorry!"

Castiel shook his head. "It's okay," he murmured, sniffling. Dean handed him a few tissues and moved to leave him alone, but Castiel grabbed his hand. "No, please stay, Dean. I want…to talk."

Dean sat down and waited patiently for Castiel to start. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, facing him. Castiel settled back against the pillows, worrying the sheet in his hands.

"I went to the bar for a drink," he said. "Just one. I…I'd been having trouble sleeping." He made no eye contact, kept his face averted from Dean's. "I thought maybe if I went out, had some fun, maybe a drink, I could relax my brain that night." He was silent for a long time. "I was stupid," he whispered brokenly.

"No, Cas," Dean said. "You weren't stupid. That's what lots of people do."

Castiel shook his head. "I flirted with him."

"People flirt. It's what they do."

Castiel buried his face in the pillow one more. "He attacked me. In the parking lot. He just pulled me into his car and…" he came up for air. "Who's gonna want me now, Dean? I'm just…"

Dean pulled his feet up onto the bed and rested his chin against his knees. He let Castiel cry for a long time before he finally reached out to touch him, his hands resting lightly on Castiel's feet. Castiel flinched, but then relaxed.

"You know when I was a kid, my dad went all around America, living here and there for only a few weeks or months at a time," Dean said. "We could go to six schools in one semester before Bobby finally pulled us off the street and into his house. That was when you met us. I was sixteen at that time."

Castiel turned over on his back and looked up at Dean, his eyes huge and blue and filled with tears. He just looked at Dean, didn't say anything.

"It was hard because we were basically homeless, but…Sammy and I didn't see it that way. We had each other and that was all that mattered. Dad, he was gone for long periods of time, just left us alone. He'd give me a hundred dollars to last for two weeks, like I could feed a growing Sam-moose that way. I'd go places, to bars, and play poker to win money. Or pool. Usually won, but sometimes I didn't. Sometimes, when I won, the guys I took money from would be pissed, and I'd get beat up pretty badly and they'd take all my money, and then Sam and I wouldn't have anything."

"Did they ever…" Castiel licked his lips.

Dean nodded. "When I was about eleven, a guy held me down and made me suck his dick. I didn't even know what sex was at that point, and he kept slapping me because my teeth were getting in the way, and then he just…jacked off in my face. After that, I learned…" he dug his fingers into his eyes and rubbed. "Christ, I was not even twelve years old, and I learned how to give a blow job like a champ…"

Castiel put his hands on Dean's knees. "Did you tell your dad? Or Bobby?"

"I _couldn't_ tell my dad," Dean said bitterly. "And Bobby would've hunted down every guy that ever touched me, and…I couldn't have that on my conscience."

"It wasn't your job to take care of the adults around you, Dean. Your dad should have—"

"I know what my dad should have done," Dean snapped, then calmed himself, not wanting to scare Castiel. "But the truth is, he didn't. And it was my job to take care of Sam, so I did what I had to do. I did it. I let guys fuck my face and then they'd spit on me and throw money at me, but I did it because it was for Sammy, and I'd do anything for him."

He didn't realize he was crying until Castiel reached out and touched his face, smearing tears over his cheeks. Dean swiped at the tears angrily, hating them. Hating who he was.

"Yeah, well, that's what I did for Sammy. I don't regret it.

"A while later, we were in Des Moines. Sammy loved it. He was eight, and he had this teacher who really encouraged him. I had a teacher who seemed to see the real me. I was totally on board with Des Moines. This teacher, she was young and beautiful, and I thought I knew everything there was about sex because I knew how to suck dick so well. How could a girl be any different, right?"

Castiel looked at him sadly and took his hands. Normally, Dean would push someone away for doing that to him. He couldn't push Cas away, though. Cas knew him. He understood him, understood this part of him.

"She flirted with me, and I flirted with her…Sam started getting upset about it. He walked in on us one day having a "study session" in the classroom, and he said it was inappropriate and he told Dad and Dad…" damn those tears were back again. He rubbed them away and wiped his nose on his shirt. "Dad pulled me aside and asked if anything inappropriate was going on and I laughed it off and said I had the Winchester charm and Dad clapped me on the back and …" his voice broke. "He told me that was the right way to be a man."

Castiel gripped his hands tighter and leaned in close. Dean was comforted by the warmth of his chest against his legs.

"I think he knew about the other stuff, now that I think about it. I think he suspected. He knew the way men looked at me. I mean, I wasn't always this ruggedly handsome. When I was a kid I was downright pretty." He smiled ironically and was rewarded with a little grin from Castiel.

"So, there I was, getting hit on by this twenty-five-year-old teacher, and my dad just gave me a green light, like he was proud of me or something. My dad was never proud of me, I never did anything right in his eyes, and finally here I was, twelve-years-old, and I finally did something right."

They looked at each other for several moments. "What did she do to you, Dean?"

"I've never told anyone. I thought…I thought when it was over, I'd be so proud," Dean said, his voice quiet. "When she started kissing me, I thought, "Oh, wow, this is it! I'm going to lose my virginity to a real woman, not some sweaty asshole who smells like beer." I thought…I thought…" He licked his lips. "Well, it doesn't matter what I thought. I felt terrible afterwards, even worse than when the guy raped me that time. I felt dirty and stupid and used and…"

Castiel squeezed his hands again. "You don't have to explain it to me, Dean. I understand."

"You don't understand because…if no one would want you, if you think you're damaged goods…then what am I? I sold myself. For money. Since I was a _kid_."

"For Sam," Cas countered. "And you're right. You're right, I don't think of you as damaged. You're not. You're…you're my best friend. I love you."

Dean smiled. "You're my best friend, too, Cas. I'm so…I'm so glad you came to me."

They sat in silence for a long time, and then finally Castiel drifted off thanks to his pain pills, and Dean stayed on the floor, wanting to be close in case there were any more nightmares.

Castiel sort of moved in after that. It wasn't anything either of them had really planned on, it just sort of happened. Castiel asked if he could stay the week after the weekend was over, and Dean said yes, and then the week turned into a month, and then he thought it was stupid to pretend that they wanted to live apart, so he told Cas to take the guest room, and he did. He even made a really valiant effort to use the guest room, but after three nights of sleeplessness for both of them, they just both started sleeping in Dean's room. Castiel's wardrobe just sort of naturally matriculated into Dean's closet, and they found themselves one afternoon browsing the IKEA website for a larger dresser that they could both use.

The weird part was that no one questioned it. Sure, Lucifer raised an eyebrow when he helped move Cas in, but Anna's wedding invitation came addressed to them both and Sam and Jess's Christmas card did the same thing. Dean kept expecting Cas to say something about it, make a remark about how they'd need to explain their platonic domestic partnership to their families, but he never did.

At Anna's wedding, Dean watched Castiel smile happily at his sister from the front of the church. He was one of her "BridesMen" along with Lucifer and a few of her girlfriends, and Dean had to admit that Cas looked really handsome in his tux and he found himself bristling when the girls behind him started gossiping about Castiel and Lucifer and whether they were single or not. He found himself wanting to turn around and say, "No, Castiel is in a relationship with me, thanks," but it wasn't true, and he wasn't sure if it would ever be true, so he just let them talk.

At the reception, Castiel stayed close to Dean. He'd been experiencing social anxiety since his assault, and he felt comfortable with people he knew, so if Dean was unavailable, he stayed close to Lucifer or Anna. At one point, Anna pulled Dean out to the dance floor and tried to make him talk abou what was going on between him and Castiel. When Dean was less than forthcoming, she just sighed and threatened that he'd better never hurt Cas.

"Trust me, Anna. I'd never hurt him. I promise."

After that, he pulled Cas out to the dance floor and twirled him around to some Big Band classic, loving the way Castiel laughed and spun around, moved under his arms, dipped him, and held him close.

A few weeks later, Dean found himself in bed, trying to disengage from Castiel, who was wound around him like an octopus thanks to how cold it was in the house, and fumbling for his phone while trying to wake up, all at the same time.

"Bobby?"

"Hey, Dean, the power went down in the entire city last night," Dean's gruff surrogate father said on the other end. "It's twenty-to-eight, I just woke up m'self."

"Shit."

He hung up and shook Castiel awake. His friend was not a morning person under the best of circumstances, and they usually started waking up about an hour before they actually had to be up because of it. They didn't have time for that today; they had about ten minutes to get out the door, so Dean was dragging Castiel off to the bathroom and into the shower before either of them were really aware of what was going on. They had never showered together, never even really saw each other naked up to that point which was odd considering the fact that they slept in the same bed every night. Dean was worried things might get awkward, but by the end of the shower, they were both laughing and elbowing each other out of the way. While they were drying off, Dean playfully snapped Castiel in the butt with his towel, making him break out into peals of laughter.

They dressed quickly and Dean left Cas to finish up in the bedroom while he tried to MacGyver some coffee, though his knowledge of how to use Cas's fancy French Press was limited at best. Within a few minutes, he had something resembling coffee and was pouring it in two commuter mugs.

Castiel came hopping into the kitchen, hair still wet, tie askew, collars all bunched up, and trying to pull his boots on.

"I made coffee, babe," Dean said, pouring milk into Castiel's travel mug.

"Ah, thanks, hon," Cas said, smiling.

Dean rolled his eyes and pulled his roommate close. "Were you raised in a barn?" he groused, fixing Cas's tie and folding down his shirt collar, then the jacket collar. "I can't take you anywhere."

Castiel laughed. "Well, I'm glad I have you."

It happened so naturally, so normally, as they walked to the door, both grabbing keys and wallets and in Castiel's case a briefcase, they just leaned in and kissed each other. Nothing big, just a peck.

Their first kiss.

They stared at each other for several moments, and then Dean reached out with his hand and patted Cas on the cheek.

"See you tonight, babe."

They went on their separate ways, and Dean tried not to think about the kiss and what it might mean, but he failed. Bobby told him twice to get his damn fool head out of the clouds. It didn't work, though. He was worried that Cas would decide to move out, or that he didn't want to be Dean's boyfriend or…well, any number of things.

He went home to a dark, empty house and fear gripped his heart for a moment because Cas was usually there first. Of course, he also usually left earlier, so Dean reasoned that perhaps he had stayed late, and then a phone call later and his suspicions were confirmed.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," Castiel said. "I'm just getting in my car now, I had to stay a little later because of the power outage and I'm going to be late. Do you want me to pick something up for dinner on my way home?"

Dean had been looking in the refrigerator when Cas called, and he saw that he had all the makings of a Bolognese sauce.

"I'll cook, sweetheart. Don't worry about it." He held his breath to see how Cas would react to being called "sweetheart."

"Do you want me to get wine or dessert or anything?" Dean could hear the sound of an engine turning over. "Pie?"

Dean laughed as he grabbed a carton of mushrooms and a package of Italian sausage. "You know I'll never say no to pie."

"Okay, babe, sounds like a plan."

Dean's heart melted. "See you soon," he said hoarsely.

Dean put a big pot of water on to boil and started slicing his onion, garlic and mushrooms. By the time Castiel got home with a bag containing both pie and wine, the sauce had come together and the pasta was just about finished.

"Honey, I'm home," Castiel called. Dean looked at him over his shoulder while he was setting the sauce to simmer. Castiel came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Dean's chest. "That smells fucking fantastic."

Dean turned and lifted one arm, pulling Castiel into his side. "We really going to do this?" he asked, looking at Cas's lips. He could still feel their softness against his.

Castiel nodded. "I want to if you do."

That was all the encouragement Dean needed. He lowered his head and brushed his lips against Cas's, enjoying being able to explore him like this. Just when things started getting interesting, though, the alarm for the pasta went off.

"Virgin alarm?" Castiel joked.

Dean laughed. Only Cas could make Mel Brooks references that easily. "Something like that. Go put on something more comfortable, I'll finish this up."

They gave each other's hips a squeeze, and then Castiel disappeared down the hall and Dean took the pot of pasta to the sink to drain. By the time Cas emerged in an old ratty T-shirt and soft cotton shorts, Dean had arranged two plates of spaghetti and sauce and shoved the pie into the oven to warm after he took out the garlic bread.

"I'll get the wine," Cas offered when he saw Dean turning out the bread in a basket.

The night was like any other night, really, since they had started their platonic domestic partnership. They just weren't platonic anymore. If Dean wanted to put his arm around Cas while they watched TV, he could. If Cas wanted to lean in and put his head on Dean's shoulder, he did. They kissed. They cuddled.

They still tried to trip each other when they played "Let's Dance" on X-Box. They still fought over the thermostat and the fact that Castiel couldn't seem to leave the bathroom in any state other than "Tornado just hit in there." They still didn't have sex, not that they didn't kiss and cuddle. They just didn't do anything else. And Dean was fine with that.

"So what's going on with you two?" Gabriel asked one night.

Dean and Cas were both sitting on the same chair. To be clear, Dean was sitting on a chair, and Castiel sat down on his lap. They looked at each other. Dean shrugged. Castiel raised his eyebrows.

"I guess I thought this thing between you two was platonic," Gabriel mused. "Guess I was wrong."

"It's complicated," Castiel offered. "It was platonic, and then it wasn't."

Gabriel took a swig of beer. "Huh. I guess Anna was right."

That night, Castiel sprawled on top of Dean in bed and started to rub against him and kiss him.

"Wait," Dean said when Castiel let go of his mouth to kiss a hot trail down his neck. "Cas, wait, sweetheart. What are you doing?"

Castiel sat up a little bit. "We…we need to do this," he announced. "We need to." And then he went back to assaulting Dean's neck.

"Cas, we don't—"

"No! We do. We need to!" Castiel sat up again, tears shining in his eyes. "We need to because it's what people do, normal people, and I want us to be _normal_."

Dean sat up and held onto Castiel so he couldn't escape. "I'm not judging my life by what's "normal" or by what other people do. They're not us, and I'm not going to do something that could hurt us both and hurt our relationship just because it's expected by society!"

Castiel fisted his hands in Dean's T-shirt and bit his lower lip. Tears were streaming down his face. "I'm tired of being afraid. I just…"

Dean brought him close and kissed him, then lay back down and held Castiel against his chest. "I'm here, sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere. When we finally make love, it's going to be because it's normal for _both_ of us, and not because you think you're not normal."

"I'm not!" Castiel cried. "And I shouldn't be bringing you down with me."

Dean sighed and rolled them both to the side so they could face each other. "You're not doing anything bad to me," he insisted. "I'm at a point in my life where I'd rather have a meaningful relationship with you that doesn't include sex, than a meaningless relationship with anyone else that includes lots of sex. Trust me, Cas, I'm not even missing it."

It was the truth. Dean was thirty-two years old. He'd been sexually active since he was a kid, and he was, frankly, a little tired of the entire thing.

"Normal or not, I'd rather have you," he reiterated.

A few weeks later, Castiel was talking about something he wanted to do that weekend, and then suddenly stopped himself.

"What's wrong?" Dean asked. He had been working on a project while Cas was talking, but he was still paying attention. At least he thought he was…

"Nothing, I just…I guess I should have asked if you had plans first."

Dean laughed and went to him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Cas, I haven't had any plans that didn't include you for about nine months now."

"Yeah," Cas said, a little bewildered. "Me either."

The more Dean thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed that they were just living together without any sort of concrete plans for the future. He didn't want another conversation like the last one, he didn't want Castiel thinking there was something strange about making plans for the both of them. A few weeks later, he turned to Castiel and took his hand.

"Cas, I wanted to ask you something, but I don't want you to give me an answer right away, okay?"

Castiel narrowed his eyes. "Okay."

"I want to marry you. It doesn't have to be this week or even this year, but…Castiel, will you marry me?"

Castiel leaned in and kissed him fiercely.

"I want you to think about it," Dean said again with a laugh.

"I will," Cas promised.

That night, Castiel crawled into bed and snuggled himself into Dean's arms so that Dean was spooning him.

"Dean, I just want to know…when we get married, will it be for real? Will you want sex and children and a dog, or do you want what we have now? And I want you to know, what you say won't really change my answer, I'm just asking because I'm curious."

Dean kissed behind his ear. "I want sex and kids and all that…well, I could do without the dog," he admitted. "But yes, I want a real marriage."

Castiel turned over and kissed Dean. "Then yes. I'll marry you."

Things didn't change that much after that. They shopped for rings, told their families, made a date for a year and a few months in the future. Castiel's family threw them a huge engagement party and Sam and Jess flew in from California for it.

One night a few weeks after the party, Castiel started kissing Dean again, and this time Dean didn't turn him away because it felt right for both of them. Dean stroked up and down Castiel's back, his chest, to between his legs and rubbed a hand over Castiel's growing erection. Castiel moaned his name and Dean rolled so that Castiel was underneath, grabbed his ass with both hands, and ground down.

Castiel's breath hitch. His erection lagged. He pushed against Dean's chest.

"No, no," he sobbed. "No, I can't…"

Dean rolled off and Castiel ran to the bathroom, locking himself in. He gave Castiel space for several minutes, then went after him.

Castiel was sitting on the floor, clutching toilet paper and crying. "It's okay, Dean," he hiccupped. "I'll…I can go live with Gabriel or Lucifer until I can find my own place."

Dean actually felt his face go pale. "You're leaving me?" he asked in a rush. "Why?"

Castiel shook his head. "No, I'm not, but…we can't even…I can't even…how would you want me now?"

Dean joined Castiel on the floor and pulled him against his side. "I've wanted you all along, Cas. This isn't going to change anything. We'll just pull back. Slow down."

Castiel looked up at him with an irritated expression. "If we moved any slower, we'd be moving _backwards_. Couples have sex, Dean. We're not having it. And it's _my fault_."

Dean grabbed Castiel by his shoulders and kissed his forehead. "It's no one's fault, Cas. But even if it never happens, I'd still rather have you. I'd still choose _you_."

Castiel gulped and nodded, sinking against Dean. "I'm just so sorry."

"Hey, shut up. No more apologies. I love you."

The second time, it was Dean's turn to freak out. Lucifer had been out of the country, and a very suspicious looking crate arrived from France containing a crate of whites and reds and even two bottles of authentic Champagne from that region. Dean usually forgot how very wealthy Castiel's family was, so times like this it usually took him by surprise, and as he decanted the most decadent burgundy he'd ever seen, he thanked providence (or perhaps just Provence) that his fiancé's eccentric older brother did something as wild and expensive as sending them a crate of wine.

The first bottle tasted so good that they opened a second, and sat around eating bread and butter like a couple of assholes in a Paris café. At some point in the middle of the second bottle, he had Castiel straddling his lap, grinding down, his hands down the back of Castiel's jeans, which he'd opened at some point, and was kissing and licking a huge love bite into Castiel's neck.

"You taste so good," he moaned against Castiel's skin, taking another bite between his teeth and teasing it with his tongue.

Castiel moaned in answer and hugged Dean's head, his fingers slipping through the hair to massage Dean's scalp, then down to his shoulders, tugging at his shirt until it was off and Castiel had unlimited access to broad, muscular shoulders and well-formed biceps

"I gotta taste you some more," Dean decided, pushing Castiel to stand and going down to his knees before him. Castiel leaned back against the table and sighed when Dean opened his jeans all the way and pulled them down, baring him all the way to Dean's view. Castiel's dick was small and pink and pretty, and Dean wanted the whole thing in his mouth, but he wanted to tease first, so he licked around Castiel's hips, his thighs, down his hairless belly, and just when he was about to do what he wanted…

All of those bad memories came flooding back. The strangers, their insults, the way he would be slapped or kicked, the humiliation of it all, the stripes of ejaculate staining his clothes and face, or worse, when they held him and made him swallow…

It was his turn to run to the bathroom and freak out. He threw up, all that gorgeous burgundy and crusty bread making a swirling mess in the toilet as he retched and heaved, crying, ashamed. He'd let Cas down.

"It's okay," Castiel whispered, leaning in behind him and flushing the mess down.

"I'm so sorry," Dean choked, still heaving and sobbing.

Castiel kissed the back of his neck and his shoulders, rubbing his hands over Dean's spine. He let him cry for a few minutes more, then helped Dean rinse his mouth, get into a clean T-shirt, and tucked him into bed. "I'm right here, honey," he promised. "I'm not going anywhere."

Dean lifted his hand and caressed Castiel's cheek, then fell asleep, his hand cradled against Castiel's chest.

}O{

The third time was the charm. Nothing special happened, no unexpected gifts. Just each other. They went for a jog after work (Castiel liked that he ran faster and could go farther than Dean), and then they made dinner and Dean was talking about a Stingray he was rebuilding for a client and he just kept talking so long that he lost track of time and soon it was nearly midnight while they just sat and talked and held hands like the idiots in love that they were.

Dean pulled Castiel into the shower with him and Castiel used his fruity pear-scented shampoo/bodywash on Dean, starting with his hair and working his way down his chest, his back, the arms that he always said made him feel so safe and wonderful, and when he got to Dean's waist, he looked at Dean with a question, and Dean nodded, gulping when Castiel took his growing interest in his hand and stroked, making Dean hard and rigid and ready. Dean already had one of Castiel's legs up against his waist, was dipping into Castiel's folds, opening him, spreading him, getting him ready.

"Tell me if I hurt you," Dean demanded.

"You're not. Keep going…please…"

Dean moved his fingers deeper, harder, added a third, and then kissed his way up Castiel's neck to his lips. "Tell me to stop," he warned, positioning himself.

"No, don't stop," Castiel breathed. "Please don't stop, Dean. I..." and then whatever he was going to say next was lost to a guttural groan.

Later, Dean would notice the fingerprint bruises on his shoulders. Later, Castiel would joke about the giant hickey on his neck. Later, they would lay in bed and kiss and tell each other they loved, they needed, they wanted. But in the moment, when they moved, they touched and hugged and kissed and then they cried on each other's shoulders when they came. There was no "later" for the tears. Those would always be there.

They got married shortly after that because it turned out that Castiel was just fertile, and Dean, while able to be a supportive, sympathetic modern man, was also very old fashioned at his core, and he wanted their baby to have two married parents when it was born.

They had a son at first, and then another son, and then just when they were wondering if tempting fate for the third time was a wise thing, Castiel found he was again pregnant, and this time it was a daughter.

Sam asked Dean once how it was that he'd known Castiel for so long and never shown an interest in anything other than friendship, and then suddenly they were attached at the hip. Dean had shrugged off Sam's blatant attempt to say they were moving too quickly by saying, "We finally figured out that we both speak the same language."

Sam had laughed at that and called Dean soft, but Dean knew it was true. It was like they had both been dropped in the middle of a foreign country, passed each other every day, and then suddenly one day, realized they were from the same place and had grown up within miles of each other. Of course, if Sam had known the cold, hard truth, about the assault and the way they were connected, Dean was sure he would want to talk about it, so he kept his answer intentionally vague. No one needed to know about any of that. No one but Cas and him.


End file.
